Inside the United Terminal at Dulles, Washington DC.
Must be a tribute to Jefferson Airplane.

Paul made this all possible out of his frequent flier miles, which I know he has better things to do with. My thanks to him for putting me on the other side of the continent, and for the time he spent with me.

Up through this spring, I had never been on an airborne plane. Most of the people I know seem incredulous when I tell them of this fact, wondering what sort of backwater enclave I must hail from. Believe it or not, I’m the product of the New York suburbs, out in the middle of Long Island.

While going other places has value in and of itself, one of the advantages to being near New York City is that the world literally comes to you. If you’ve never been to New York City, or if all you’ve seen of the city is the Disney District, you can’t really appreciate what I mean. People are almost dumbfounded however, when I tell them I’ve never been off the east coast, unless you consider Philadelphia not-an-east-coast-city.

So it was thus, when I found myself ordered to the airport and summoned to San Fransciso, at the behest of my friend Paul, who recently moved up in the world again, and has a very choice apartment in what appears to be the middle of everything.